Life in North America, you call this an autopsy officer?!
Chapter 37 - 30: Sorry, I Used to Speak Too Loudly

Chapter 37: Chapter 30: Sorry, I Used to Speak Too Loudly

Susan saw Old Hardenn staring at her, hands spread, "Sorry, we are still a reserve team, we don’t have much funding, and Brian’s hospital check-ups have already cost quite a bit. If you can’t give a good reason, I refuse to reimburse you."

She was just straightforward, not fond of beating around the bush, not stupid.

Agreeing to everything would make it difficult to manage people later.

Old Hardenn became anxious, "It’s not my fault, there were armed guards there, I had to pretend to be a client to coax out some information."

Seeing Glenn, who was displeased, scoffed sarcastically, "You’re right, the best way to open a woman’s mouth is to have her kneel down, and for this, you spent five hundred US dollars..."

"I..."

"Enough!" Brian interjected, stopping their nonsense, "Our most immediate task right now is to solve this case. Old Hardenn, talk about what you’ve found, and if it’s useful, when the case-solving bonus comes out, Team Leader Susan can reimburse you!"

"Alright." Old Hardenn gave up his struggle:

"That apartment is managed by a small gang called the Wild Dog Gang.

Most of those women are addicts or chicks picked up by the gang members.

They used to stand on the streets at motels or crossroads.

Since June this year, when the new boss of the Wild Dog Gang took over, he changed their previous methods.

Now, they work with some food trucks to provide deliveries, actively inviting clients over, and it has been quite successful so far. I heard that their boss even sought legal advice. He’s a smart guy."

"How many women are there?"

"What’s the new boss’s name?"

"I’m not sure exactly how many women there are.

The apartment has three floors.

The first floor is the activity area of the gang members; I only saw seven or eight people, all clearly armed.

The upper two floors should be the living areas for the prostitutes.

Meals costing two or three hundred US dollars only grant access to the second floor.

Meals costing five hundred US dollars can take you to the third floor.

Once there,

you can knock on any door freely.

Whatever you want to do to the women inside,

they’ll comply."

Upon hearing this, Glenn sneered, "So you went to the third floor?"

Old Hardenn ignored him and continued, "As for the new boss, his name is Ike, and everyone in the gang calls him Mad Dog Ike. I felt that the prostitute became very scared when she mentioned his name."

"Mad Dog Ike?"

Ivan and Glenn looked at each other, showing shock.

Seeing their reactions, Brian asked, "You guys know this guy?"

Ivan nodded, "This guy is somewhat crazy, acts recklessly without considering the consequences, and he’s pretty stupid. He once bought a lot of explosives to blow up a small bank’s vault door, and the money he stole wasn’t even as much as what he spent on the explosives, which pissed him off enough to confront the bank’s director about why there wasn’t more money, and then he got caught. I can’t believe he’s been released already."

"Buying explosives.."

Susan’s eyes lit up, "Maybe this Ike knows Audlin, and he has issues with the deceased Kenneth too, acts without considering the consequences, he’s really a prime suspect!"

Ivan and others nodded, feeling that Ike was indeed highly suspicious.

Brian was puzzled by another point.

How did a rash, impulsive guy come up with the idea of using delivery as a method to organize prostitution, even going as far as to consult a lawyer?

Could it really be that amazing, this insight from Domain?

...

To find out more,

Simply speculating in the station is useless.

Under Susan’s leadership, they all geared up, wearing bullet-proof vests, and called in eight armed police officers to move together and surround the apartment Old Hardenn had visited before.

Old Hardenn even wore a black hood similar to those used by anti-terror forces, only revealing his eyes.

This was someone who cared about appearances.

As Old Hardenn said,

Visiting for business in the morning, then leading a raid in the afternoon,

Could easily damage one’s reputation.

...

Outside the apartment, there were security cameras.

Before they even knocked,

A thin man with sunken eyes and brown hair, accompanied by seven or eight others, rushed to the corridor to block the entrance, "This is a private property, who are you?"

This guy, sniffing constantly, his body shivering,

Any observant person could see that he had just taken drugs.

"NW Unit Six, I am the team leader, Susan, who here is Ike?" Susan, hanging two large revolvers at her waist and not wearing a bullet-proof vest, confidently walked forward.

It wasn’t that she didn’t want to wear a bullet-proof vest.

But she had tried several times.

And each time, the adjustable bullet-proof vests constricted her breathing.

"NW Unit?"

The short man grinned, "Sorry, never heard of it; also, we don’t know the Ike you mentioned. Leave right now, or else..."

He didn’t know whether he was high or just stupid; he suddenly pulled out a handgun in front of Susan and the seven or eight LAPD officers behind her, trying to show his intimidation.

The next moment.

Bang~

An 11.18 mm caliber special bullet had ripped open his skull and simultaneously catapulted him into the air before he heavily slammed into the ground, scattering a mix of white and red matter which might have been either blood plasma or brains.

Brian was close by.

He could still see those things on the ground, steaming...

Everyone was stunned.

The shooting had started just like that?

Ivan and Glenn, the old-timers, felt a chill around their necks.

That was a fast gun!

They had not even clearly seen Team Leader Susan’s movements.

A precise headshot.

Susan’s beautiful face, now cold,

expressed nothing as she reinserted the over thirty-centimeter long Smith & Wesson Model 29 revolver back into her waistband and said coldly, "The NW team has the authority to arrest any suspects directly within Los Angeles County, but I guess you don’t need to know that anymore!"

"FUCK!"

"This bitch killed the boss’s brother..."

Several gang members, also high on drugs, didn’t care that there were so many policemen outside and frantically tried to draw their guns.

Bang, bang, bang—

The sound of gunfire erupted like firecrackers.

When the noise ceased,

the seven or eight gang members who had stood in the apartment corridor, reaching for guns or towards their waists, had all neatly fallen to the ground, sleeping very peacefully.

Only one with slow reactions was left, his eyes wide open, seemingly stunned into idiocy.

Brian: ..

Was this what Susan referred to as American Iaijutsu?

Thinking about how he had flippantly agreed to compete with Susan, Brian felt as if his life had started a countdown.

It was terrifyingly scary.

Even killing a chicken wasn’t this fast!

He looked back at his colleagues.

Aside from Glenn and Ivan, who had quickly drawn their pistols,

everyone else stood dumbfounded, still not realising what had happened.

...

Susan frowned and looked down at the torn holster.

She had just used a highly dangerous holster shooting technique, also known as the ultimate technique of American Iaijutsu.

It sounded terrifying.

In fact, it was about shooting directly without drawing the gun.

This method pushed shooting speed to its limits, with the sole drawback being a propensity to shoot oneself in the foot.

But for Susan,

the biggest drawback was that each use required a new holster.

And these were handmade with deerskin.

She didn’t have many left.

After reloading her bullets.

Susan kicked the metal door, startling the shocked group awake.

She pointed at the still-living gang member, "Ask him where Ike is, go in and arrest him, and shoot to kill if they resist!"

"Yes, Team Leader!"

Ivan and Glenn, admiration in their eyes, motioned to eight patrol officers, drew their guns, and rushed in.

Old Hardenn, somewhat shyly, approached Susan, "Boss.."

Susan glanced at him, "What is it?"

"Sorry, I used to speak too loudly..."

"Hmm, be careful in the future."

Susan pinched her slightly aching fingers and strode towards the apartment.

Previously, her father had said she was brainless and couldn’t lead people.

What a joke.

Look now.

All these old foxes, so obedient.

...

Watching Susan’s unchanging expression as she stepped over the mix of brain and blood plasma on her way into the apartment,

Brian swallowed.

Damn.

Why did he feel so secure around this woman?

Maybe chasing after her wasn’t such a bad idea.

At worst, he’d mend his ways later!

Brian felt that even his uncle might not beat Susan.

Those long, strong legs!

So reassuring!

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